Keep on Walking
by silgidane
Summary: Miroku character sketch sorta . Written before I read the whole Miroku-air-rip-widening thing. Blech. Constructive cristism and reviews appreciated.


Disclaimer: ****

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Takahashi Rumiko, Viz, and the series Inu-Yasha.

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Rating: PG-13. Mild cursing.

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Author's Notes: First Inu-Yasha fic... Please keep this in mind while reading.

This a Miroku fic. It's kinda like a character sketch, except... not. I'm not quite sure exactly _how_ character sketches of Miroku are supposed to go, but this was basically my best guess. Even though he's is my favorite character, I don't think I understand Miroku very well, so it's a little OOC. I dunno; all stories I write seem a little... off. 0_o Oh, and parts of it are a little... depressing. Maybe severely depressing. 

Well, I kinda like the way it turned out anyhow. 

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Keep On Walking

His number one policy was this: Never look back.

The reason was quite simple, acutally; looking back meant turning around to see happiness, anger, sadness, worry, some kind of emotion printed on a person's face while staring at his retreating back. Looking back meant saying, 'Good-bye, but see you soon'- which was never the case, since he never came back. False hopes were like broken promises, as sharp as fragments of glass. Looking back meant trying to memorize the details of the farewell party; the lines of their faces, the scenery in the background, the sounds of their voices mingled together... 

Or, examining it retrospectively, there could be no people at all, which made it a thousand times worse.

He wondered why he left so much; half the time, there was no actual reason to leave. He just did it; maybe he liked wandering and the feeling that he was alone in the world. Maybe he liked walking. A lot. Maybe he liked it more than friends, and family, and love, and a home--

The sky was very pretty today, he suddenly noticed, snapping his head forcibly upwards. Very blue... like the color of a clear stream. The trees seemed fresher, too, somehow. Earthy green with hints of lighter verdant shining through. These woods seemed prettier today. 

'Maybe it's because it's wishing you farewell, _houshi-sama_' screamed a voice mockingly in the corner of his disillusioned mind.

The sudden thought unnerved him-- but only for a split second. Still, he halted in the middle of the forest. "I'm not leaving", he said aloud, in spite of himself. "The air rip is sealed. I'm not leaving." The words felt empty; hanging in the quiet air.

As he listened to the echo of his words, he decided even to himself the sentences sounded flimsy and weak, so he repeated them. "I'm not leaving."

There was no reason to leave. The air rip _was_ sealed; it didn't seem to be growing outrageously bigger and nothing felt wrong. He had no ties with family; his father, mother, grandparents were all dead. Friends? All his friends were here, in the forest, travelling (like him). 

Love? That was here, too.

There was nothing that could, would, or should cause him to leave. ((But that has never stopped you before.)) At least not of this moment; when the time or occasion presented itself, he would take the necessary precautions to protect the only family he had left.

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Hey, Miroku... Do you remember that one day? While you were inside the house, all snug and warm in bed; so content and peaceful and blissfully asleep to notice that your father went outside? Do you? 

Remember waking up in the middle of the night? Remember feeling cold and deathly ill all of a sudden? I would never forget... You, on the other hand... You might've forgotten. But, there's no harm in asking: Do you still remember? Hey, Miroku, do you recall the way the sky looked, at the edge of dawn? Glowing pale pale blue-gray, the sky stood over you as you started to run... 

Still, as was his nature, his mind drifted as he began to think about leaving- again. 

He was a twisted delinqueint monk with a lot of spare time; sitting by the fireside for hours could get as boring as hell, and he needed a thought, an idea to puzzle over; something to pass the time...

Death and leaving were his final subjects.

It was rather ironic, he supposed, but life was chock-full of irony and angst and sadness and everyone needed to dig their way through the rubble to find a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find the happiness they once lost. ((Why haven't you been searching?)) Everyone was looking... Kagome and Inu-Yasha, for courage and love; Sango for strength and family; Shippo for companionship and trust; and him... and....

What **was** he looking for?

Naraku, of course. A way to kill his curse, of course. Revenge, of course. What else was there, now, after everything he feared had happened? ((Death was an oh so painful subject, but morbidly fascinating, like watching a person scream...))

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Remember? Of course you do; I could never let you forget! You had begun to cry, though you had no idea why. Maybe you're psychic (or perhaps psychotic, or maybe even a little of both); Miroku, wouldn't that be something? Maybe you're not, but you still started to cry, and kept running... running past all the silent houses and stores, the sky still that thin gray-blue-white color. 

And suddenly, as you neared the edge of the villiage, right where the empty fields and forest started, you felt this strange...

odd...

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pulling

sensation. Do you remember being confused? You don't remember this day much anymore, do you? You used to think about it everyday... and now you don't. What's wrong? Don't want to honor your own father? Can't bear to think of something sad, something real when you have your newfound friends and family around? Pathetic, I think. 

But still, that pulling sensation, like invisible hands had caught hold of you and was jerking you towards them. Weakly, of course; you still had no idea at that time, did you? You were such a dense, naive, ignorant little child; thinking your father wouldn't go, at least not just yet. 

As if anyone would listen to the whinings of a small boy.

He had it all planned out, to the tiniest detail, even: night, he would know; he would feel it (just like your father must've, ne?) in his soul, shaking it; pulling it, stretching it all out of proportion. Night; he would steal out into the blessed darkness and hated silence, taking one last look at everyone (if you were feeling daring and stupid, maybe you might even whisper to her-- I love you -- before you leave). Just on the brink of dawn, look up at the pale sky, and try to forget; it would never work, but it could never hurt to try, ne? Enter the forest, keep walking until there is absolutely no sign of human life; no civilazation; be careful! (Father wasn't careful enough; you **saw**--!) 

Then fall to your knees, pray a prayer... apologize for your sins, his sins, their sins; apologize to her, with her purity shining through, apologize to him, with his love unmasked, apologize to the little one, young and still clean; apologize to your father; tell him you tried, tried as much as you could, but it was so hard!-- apologize to your mother; tell her you loved her, tell her that you're sorry for always lying... And especially apologize to the one that you loved but never told. 

Don't cry-- never cry! -- but maybe shed a few tears inwardly. Seek forgiveness; keep praying and thinking and hope that the demons of the world will never put a curse (like the one they placed on you) again. Then stay there, thinking until it swallows you up whole... 

[Death, or the air rip?] 

[Both, of course.]

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You knew what was happening- so obvious- you knew! You didn't have to, didn't need to, didn't even want to- but you still did. Trembling a little, you walked, step by step, toward the very center of the magnet. You must've been crazy, but did you care?

No; you never heeded the warnings unless you thought they were correct. But you weren't thinking, now were you? How odd that you remember; being so numb and blank as you passed tree after tree after tree...

A hand clamped down on your shoulder. Startled out of your small mind, you jumped and screamed, only it got caught in your throat, the pressure from the atmospheric silence holding it down. Wide open eyes (remember this?) swiveled upward to meet the half-crazed irises of a worried man. "Miroku" he hissed, the first word said or heard that night. Silent, calm, quiet, confused, saddened- what was wrong with you?

"Hai?" you whispered back, suddenly stone-still. "What are you doing, out here?" He knew what you were doing; you could see it in his eyes (haunted). He pretended though; lied! straight to your face. You knew he was pretending (you knew a lot of things that night) and you played along, too, you liar! 

Death, too, was an interesting concept; fascinating and beautiful, even. It could be ugly and cruel and black, but other times... In other times, it could be a blessing. (A wounded animal, suffering so much that it can't even lift its own head without screaming in pain) Putting things out of misery... Is that what was needed to be done to him?

No! Of course not; that was ridiculous! He forced a short, bitter laugh out; it seemed too loud and fake in the stillness of the woods. He was sorry he had done it immeadiatly. His laughter died off abruptly. He wondered why he was thinking such depressing thoughts; he wasn't depressed... Not at all. He wasn't in pain; just hanging there, suspended over the world; he was just waiting for something. ((What is it?))

Besides, he had Sango to think about, Sango to dream about, Sango to wonder about, Sango to figure out... He had Sango to fall in love with; more and more and more he looked at her, trying to guess just exactly what she thought about him. Her opinion mattered most to him in the world, maybe even surpassings his dead father's opinion.

Sango was beautiful.

[Houshi-sama, what are you waiting for?]

[Something unreachable, something unrealized.]

[If you don't even know what it is you're waiting for, how will you know when it comes?]

[I'll know.]

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And his eyes, they shifted nervously- as if you couldn't tell -and he said, "Come back, it's cold outside, Miroku." His eyes were hooded. And you glanced at the center of the void; where your father would be... was he in pain? Panic rose up, and you broke away, running once more. Maybe you screamed out something; memories are always blurred around the edges...

Do you remember? You should; how else will you honor your father, your grandfather, your family? You used to relive that night every single day- now you don't. Why?

Running. Tree after tree after tree flashes on every side- that pulling sensation gets stronger, like the edges of a paper being crumpeld, being drawn in. You were heading toward the very center of a black hole.

He caught you though; ran to catch up with you and grabbed the fabric of you clothes in a frenzy. "Stop! Your father- he wanted you away- didn't want you to see!" But you pulled away, kept running- were you still crying? Still screaming? You ran straight into the v e r y center of the black hole.

At the brink of diaster, you froze-- no less than 7 feet away from your father-- and you didn't get sucked in. Everything else was; trees, grass, dirt, everything was being drawn in at alarming speed and strength- and yet a little boy wasn't. 

Choked- you wanted to speak to him, but the words, they died in your mouth. Father sitting there, gripping his hand in pain, eyes closed, lips still moving in a chain of prayers. Couldn't speak-- it was your chance, but you didn't- you didn't!

He looked up, saw you there frozen, the sky still that color- you were beginning to hate it now, ne? "Miroku!" Still staring; eyes... eyes what? Were you feeling anything then? "Get- get out of here!" He was shocked; seeing you unmoving; so close to him, yet not being yanked in by cruel invisible hands. "Go, Miroku! Leave!" Eyes... his father's eyes, his father's voice... this was the last time he would ever ever see his father, alive or dead, in this life...

Then- then-

The blessed silence of the forest and the hated color soothed him as he paused in walking. He wondered why he always felt like leaving. His father and grandfather had liked wandering around, too; it was inherited, he supposed (just like this damn curse!) But his father had stopped when he met Miroku's mother; he stopped walking and settled down, made friends, and stayed. 

Miroku wondered if he could ever stop walking.

((PAUSE... 2, 3...))

No, he decided against it; he wouldn't be able to do that. It was in his blood; he couldn't stop wandering. It was what he did best and most often; being trapped in one place was difficult, trying, and he never was able to do it. He always got up and started walking one day; leaving yet another town, passing yet another forest, going through yet another mountain...

Maybe, though... if someone asked, someone like the one he desperately loved... if someone like Sango asked him, he might be able to do it.

Maybe. 

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Remember... surely you remember! How could you ever forget, a moment like this, pain like this, you shouldn't have seen it, weren't supposed to see it, but you did... He suddenly inverted into himself, like there was an air rip inside his father's body, the very center, and his father just-

His father just-

He was just gone... The last words he had ever heard from his father was "Leave!" He had disobeyed his father's last wish...

The forest was suddenly, abruptly, frighteningly silent. All that was left of his father was a small pit in the ground; not even a small sentiment to remember his last blood family by... nothing but the thing that killed him. The air rip was a murderer, and you sobbed.

But, for now at least, he was still travelling; he was still searching for something he knew he could never have; for now, he would wander around the world with his current blood family, his makeshift world still intact.

For now, he wouldn't stop. 

Not yet. 


End file.
